There is a story on the radio… some ghostly tale or other. I never really understood why we tell ghost stories at Christmas. I know it is traditional, but I was never sure how far back it went. I’d done a bit of research once, but that took it only a few hundred years. I had often wondered if it went back even further, to the dark, wild nights when firelight cast a safe circle against the dancing shadows. It is easy to imagine strange creatures when the shades claw their way up the walls, especially when the bonds of conscious thought are loosed by the ember glow.

The story ends and is replaced by Christmas carols. Looking around the room, everything is ready. Presents wait, all wrapped under the tree, mince pies dusted with sugar… a carrot for Rudolph and a glass of sherry for Santa, to keep out the cold. It’s a good job he doesn’t have to worry about drinking and driving… one of the perks of being a magical figure, I suppose.

She hasn’t seen me come in. I watch as the tears fall in silence. Tears… yes, Christmas brings old memories. Smiles, too… but tonight, just the tears. I want to offer comfort to the quiet figure on the sofa, but I don’t know how. The dog looks at me, expecting me to help somehow, then turns away, laying his head in her lap. My hand stretches out to her shoulder… but I cannot reach her. All I can do is hope that the love that is my very being can be felt. That she knows I am here, loving her still. Tonight, I know why we speak of our ghosts at Christmas… called by love, it is the night we come home.

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About Sue Vincent

Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire-born writer and one of the Directors of The Silent Eye, a modern Mystery School. She writes alone and with Stuart France, exploring ancient myths, the mysterious landscape of Albion and the inner journey of the soul. Find out more at France and Vincent. She is owned by a small dog who also blogs.
Follow her at scvincent.com and on Twitter @SCVincent. Find her books on Goodreads and follow her on Amazon worldwide to find out about new releases and offers. Email: findme@scvincent.com.

This perfectly captures the ghosts of my Christmas’ past. People very rarely address the sadness that is inherent in the holidays. No one likes to talk about the people who are alone, or very near to, at this time of year. I’m reminded each year that my husband is gone. His birthday fell on December 28th. So, it is always a pin waiting to stab me when the calendar clicks around every year. Seeing ‘whole’ families, I’m reminded. Even if families are imperfect or unhappy, they still have each other. And, I envy that. Still, you can’t live on bitterness and envy. So, it’s a passing feeling. I try to be glad for what I have and who I get to spend the season with. Yet, it is also appreciated that you acknowledge the ghosts. It helps to lay them to rest.

I’m so sorry. The years go by, the sorrow ages, but like fine wine. It gets more flavor with age. It hurts in different ways. I am not explaining it well, but that’s grief. It warps and defies easy translation to people who have no words in that particular language.

We will light a candle for my Mum and the two Dads on Christmas Day, and hope they see the light knowing we are thinking of them as we do every day. They visit me in my dreams, young and whole. We miss their physical presence, but they are always near.

With Stuart France

Graphic Novels

By Sue Vincent

With Dr G. Michael Vasey

Books by Stuart France

Silent Eye Workbooks

Steve Tanham

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